


Scissors, Shaving Soap, Straight Razor

by dean_chester



Category: Original Works
Genre: Cardverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 14:17:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16914462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dean_chester/pseuds/dean_chester
Summary: "The ex-King of Hearts admitting to an affair with the late Queen of Spades. He admitted a child had come out of it. A child. A child many compared to his older son Klaus, the Ace of Hearts. They looked more and more similar as they aged. Their complexion and their facial hair and the way their faces and eyes were shaped. They shared a similarly pale, dusty color upon their heads, curling slightly and sticking out in some areas.What makes the whole thing worse is Sigmund had another child after the bastard son he produced."





	Scissors, Shaving Soap, Straight Razor

It had only been three hours since the pamphlet was dropped. Sigmund Fischer's confessional. It spread like wildfire, even reaching the excommunicated Clubs.

The ex-King of Hearts admitting to an affair with the late Queen of Spades. He admitted a child had come out of it. A child. A child many compared to his older son Klaus, the Ace of Hearts. They looked more and more similar as they aged. Their complexion and their facial hair and the way their faces and eyes were shaped. They shared a similarly pale, dusty color upon their heads, curling slightly and sticking out in some areas.

What makes the whole thing worse is Sigmund had another child after the bastard son he produced.

 

Bastard son.

 

Raised under a different father, this child believed he was blue-blooded. He still was, but not how he thought. 

That child was now the Queen of Spades. He wanted to be King, but that place was to be reserved for another. It wasn't fair, he should have been king anyways! He ruled like one, acted, spoke like one. And now the truth comes out about his father! That his mother lied alongside another man, a rival king at that, and produced a child who never should have been born in the first place?

He felt the people's looks change.

 

 _You_ _look_ _oddly_ _similar_ _to_ _the_ _Ace_ _of_ _Hearts_.. _It may just be the mustache!_ They all said, not knowing how right they were.

 

Now they just stared. They said not a word, but he knew what they were thinking. He knew they wanted to toss him out of that throne now that they heard. Would've thrown his mother out too, given she was still alive!

 

-

 

"Your _Majesty_ , open this door!" A nurse had called, knocking quite furiously.

"Oliver, _please_!" Cried his half-brother. "Please come out, nothing's going to happen!"

 

Oliver had locked himself inside of the restroom. He even barricaded the door with a cabinet just to be sure.He stared at his reflection, the pamphlet strewn across the counter, pages wrinkled and breaking. He didn't know why he'd been crying, but he was. It was messy, he didn't have anything else on his mind but anger and pain. In his trembling hand, he held a rather shitty photograph of Klaus. The Ace of Hearts. Oliver held it closer to the mirror, gaze flickering between both faces he saw before him...

 

...They really do look similar.

 

His whole world was breaking apart over this. He'd been known to cry at such trivial matters...

 

Oliver had blocked out the knocking and the concerned voices outside. He rummaged through compartments and drawers, searching for something. He didn't know what until he found it. Scissors, shaving soap, straight razor. Oliver glanced to the picture, wiping his teary eyes on his sleeve.

He'd gone through the process rather sloppily, doing it with such haste and disdain for whatever cuts he endured. It didn't matter. It didn't matter at all. It had to be gone, he wouldn't wear this stupid bush on his lips anymore. He wouldn't make himself look like _Klaus_ anymore.

 

-

 

His face was clean. Rough and cut, but clean. Oliver washed himself, shoving the pamphlet and the photograph into an already messy drawer before slamming it shut.

The knocking continued. The nurse had given up, but Arnold was still there.

 

Oliver's hands hadn't stopped shaking. His legs buckled beneath him while he stared into the mirror. He sat down on the floor, knees pulled uncomfortably close to his face. He cried.


End file.
